


The Tale of Men of Talent

by FortuneSurfer



Category: Justified
Genre: Captivity, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneSurfer/pseuds/FortuneSurfer
Summary: “And despite how low you think of me, I could never exploit the vulnerable.”“Only the stupid.”“We are given our talents to use them.“
Relationships: Boyd Crowder/Tim Gutterson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	The Tale of Men of Talent

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback and talking to fellow fans, so, I would love to hear if you like or dislike the story I am sharing with you!

It’s not easy to admit for Tim, but at the end of the day, even Kentucky shitkickers have their advantages: with the local color you at least know what to expect. Unlike with the idiots imported from Nevada currently in charge of guarding him and Boyd Crowder.

  
But their ignorance turns out to be an advantage, too, when the one Tim calls Tweedledum in his head gets so bored he decides to engage in a conversation with Boyd, not knowing how grave of a mistake that is. Boyd warns him that he and his brother might regret holding them hostage like this big time, and the guy replies:

  
“Then why you, so big and mighty, is chained up like my dog now?”

And Boyd does his shtick because of course he does, it's Boyd, but he manages to make it not just somewhat entertaining, as Tim would expect, but to actually catch Tim off guard.

  
“Oh, I’m not at all talking about my humble self. You see, there is a much bigger danger than me you have to fear.” And just when Tim is about to roll his eyes, preparing to hear Boyd’s convoluted, subtly self-aggrandizing version of Christianity, Boyd turns his head to him and proclaims: “And by that I mean the very man sitting right here beside me. Deputy US Marshal Gutterson.”

  
Following the announcement, Tweedledum – and also his brother behind his back – proceed to stare at Tim with suspicion. Tim feels like an award winner who hasn’t prepared his speech but doesn’t let it on and only gives both a casual shrug, like, yeah, whatever. Why not, really. He can’t deny he’s interested where this will be going.

His unenthusiastic reply effectively stimulates their guards’ curiosity: it prompts Tweedledum to ask: “The hell he's talking about?”

And Boyd gladly continues to talk. 

“In my line of business, you need a name to not waste time on unnecessary introductions, but some crafts require from men to turn themselves into ghosts. And Deputy Gutterson has had the honor and the privilege to become such a ghost on behalf of the American government. He meritoriously ensured that the very best interests of our nation were served during his tour in the Afghan war.” Tim registers how their guards start to look confused after that last part probably because of the taught respect for veterans and patriotism surfacing in them. “His retribution is fast and deadly like a lightning bolt, and mark my words, they‘ll make a film about him when his heroic story enters the public domain.”

The fantasy of his biopic is so irresistibly ridiculous that Tim finds himself considering his pick for the main role. Out loud he says: “Stop making me blush, Crowder.” 

“Ain’t looking like hero material to me,” voices his opinion Tweedledee.

“How do you know never seen one with your eyes?”

“Well, gentlemen, isn’t it the whole point of being an invisible punisher – to be unrecognizable as such?”

“Maybe,” allows Tweedledum, and it feels kinda humiliating to Tim to be guarded by somebody so dumb and/or gullible.

Boyd goes on with his fairy tale, coming up with progressively ridiculous inventions about Tim’s character and reputation, but the most interesting part of this is how their intrigued captors must see something in Tim that confirms Boyd’s words because they don’t silence or interrupt him for what feels like a long time.

“Enough, let the man speak for himself. So. Can you really hit a dimple on a pimple on a fly’s left asscheek, like he’s saying?”

Tim really, really wants to go with: “Sure, and my balls are so heavy, I can use elevator with only one more person inside,” but he noticed a gun journal in the hands of Tweedledee and has figured out what Boyd’s doing, and given how mentally ill-equipped the specimen before them are… it might work. 

“Crowder talks too much, but he’s right. I’m basically the illegitimate son of Chuck Norris.” A second later, Tim is sure that his reference was too sophisticated for the audience, and so he gives them a simpler, easily imaginable idea to consider. “I once killed a guy from a distance of something over three kilometers.”

“No way, man.”

“That’s not possible. That would make you, like, a wizard.”

“That’s how you feel about it. In my experience, this stuff is pretty manageable.”

Tweedledum betrays his complex intellectual operations by scratching his nose and turning to his brother for help. Tweedledee asks:

“And how exactly did you do that shot?”

“Without glasses, obviously.” 

Tim can hear Boyd’s quiet laugh to himself.

The brothers exchange glances and exit the room, and when a few minutes later they return and composed Tweedledum starts by saying: “Alright, Mr. War Hero. Let’s say we give you a chance to prove it…” and basically explains that they’ll unshackle him for a quick shot in the backyard, all Tim is thinking is _thank God for all redneck knuckleheads in the world_.

Later, with their captors already unconscious and while they're waiting to be picked up by the marshal service and whoever is picking up Boyd this time, Boyd says:

“You really performed that three kilometer shot? Most impressive.”

“Maybe I did, maybe it’s just a story. Don’t let reason stop you from commiting your next crime in an open space or near a window, though.”

“Do you really think that I deserve this animosity when I just expressed so much of my sincerest appreciation of you? Appreciation, which, I need not remind you, allowed you to break free.”  
  
Saying that, Boyd, of course, doesn’t find it necessary to highlight the fact that he wanted to get at least one of the idiots out of the room to free himself.

Tim smirks. 

“You want my recognition, huh?” 

“That would only be fair.”

“I guess I can say that with your showmanship you should’ve been selling shit on late night TV or become one of those televangelists. Would’ve made you wa-a-ay more successful than you’re at crime.”

“I think my views would be too extreme for the general public. And despite how low you think of me, I could never exploit the vulnerable.”

“Only the stupid.” 

“We are given our talents to use them. And to go back to your suggestion: being in any other position than the one I am right now would hurt my chances to meet extraordinary people like yourself.”

Sensing that it might be he who’ll end up feeling uncomfortable, Tim begrudgingly refrains from making one of his signature boner jokes.

“Can’t personally say that I’d regret it.”

They’ll go back to that conversation when during another encounter Boyd will notice Tim’s new cap with _Invisible Punisher_ on it.


End file.
